I was driving down a dark and winding road last night when suddenly, there he was! A skunk. Then, swerve! Thump-tumble-bump, he wasn’t. And because I’m not a fan of killing furry things or any things really, I cried. And then I kept crying because the odor hit.
Now, I’ve smelled skunk odor and you probably have, too. We all know it is Very Bad. But I’d never been at ground zero of the blast before. It’s…it’s…it’s just…there simply are not words for what it is. I’ll tell you this: when my mother approached my van, she vomited. (Not really. But there was a lot of dramatic gagging!) I’m not sure what comprises skunk musk, but it’s the worst smell you’ll ever taste. So, I decided I better try to make it go away as soon as possible. Of course, you can’t. But I had to try.
I headed for the nearest car wash as I imagined all the vegetation within fifty feet of my vehicle wilting, turning black and dying like I was the fourth horsemen of the apocalypse, bringing death and hell with me. You should have seen all the people fall to the ground when I pulled in to Speedway to grab some cash from the ATM! Okay, maybe they didn’t fall to the ground so much as turn, grimace and cup their hands over their mouths and noses. Still, it was the hot topic of conversation among those protected behind the glass inside the convenience store. All I could do was shrug with sorry eyes and say, “Skunks. What can you do?” But mostly everyone looked angry at me.
I was feeling pretty low and mumbling, “Why me?” into my shirt mask when I arrived at the car wash. I pulled up to the automatic wash bay, inserted my money and looked down to see this.
“Aaaahhhhhh!” I screamed, as you do when you meet a dead raccoon with his eyes open. And it may not have anything to do with anything else, but I felt like it did and it just made me feel so much worse.
I went through the car wash, twice, taking special care to sit the offending back tire over the undercarriage sprayer thing for as long as possible. Still, it stunk. So, I dragged myself to the truck stop and grabbed their entire stock of wild cherry scented little tree air fresheners. The cashier gave me a question mark face when I dumped my armload on the counter and I told her the story. The janitor caught wind of it and told me about the time he hit a skunk with his motorcycle. It didn’t seem appropriate to hug a stranger, so I shook my head knowingly with teary eyes and whispered, “I’m so sorry.” Then I went and hung up my trees which didn’t really mask the odor, but enhanced it by contrast.
I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to eat anything cherry flavored again.